Mum, What's a Muggle?
by Wind Whisperer
Summary: [One-Shot] Sirius, at the ripe old age of 5, first begins to defy his mother, causing the beginning of the rift that made him break away from his family's dark beliefs. R&R Please!


A/N: Hey there, this is a little ficlet about Sirius first defying his mother, which led to his separation from the family as he got older. The plot bunnies attacked at I had to write about it! So please review, I'd love any feedback you may have. :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; I am only using J.K. Rowling's characters and I am not making any money from my writing.

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**Mum, What's a Muggle?**

(Sirius POV)

I was in the backyard on my toy broomstick again, wishing I could have a _real _broom. I absolutely loved Quidditch. Mum would tell me about how her old house, Slytherin, won almost every game – and beat Gryffindor and Hufflepuff by hundreds of points. She told me that dad was a keeper, and she got to know him through Quidditch.

I never really understood what they were saying about Gryffindor and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but Slytherin seemed to be the house they liked. I wonder what house they were talking about – what did my parents mean, houses at school? Were there a bunch of houses lined up, with funny names? I had never really asked my parents. They scared me sometimes, especially when their friends visited every once in a while with scary masks and dark cloaks on. They talked in low voices and whispered about things, and whenever I tried to listen, I'd get shooed out in a hurry and screamed at.

I didn't try to listen in much anymore.

Anyway, I was riding on my toy broomstick, when Mum came round the corner again. Her friend had just left, and she was still grumbling about Muggles. I had heard the word often, and I thought it meant something horrible – like a really evil person, but I had never asked. I decided to chance asking about it now.

"Mum?" I said, "What are Muggles?"

She looked surprised, and I could see a flash of anger cross her face, but it left as quickly as it had come. She gazed at me, apparently trying to figure out how to tell me about whatever they were – the thing she hated.

"Muggles, Siri, are people that can't do magic, and their blood is not pure and magical. Any child that can do magic born of them should be called a Mudblood because of it," Mum explained, trying to sound patient but ending up with a sharp edge to her voice like always.

"How did their blood get dirty? Did they get a scrape and some stuff got in?"

My mother hesitated, but then plowed on with her explanation. "No, Siri, that's not what happened. The phrase 'dirty blood' means that the magical person's parents weren't able to do magic but they were, for some horrible, terrible, grotesque reason."

The distaste was evident on her face. She seemed to hate these people. Why?

"But Mum, isn't it a good thing they were magical? Then they could join us! Then they wouldn't be with all of those weird non-magic people. Isn't it a good thing?" I repeated. I didn't understand what made them so bad.

Mum gazed at me, and what I saw in her hard, cold eyes scared me. Her expression gave off a feeling of malice, and of shocked disbelief that seemed to turn into hate for me. My mother hated me, I found as I stared into her eyes. She hated me. Was what I said so bad?

"Sirius," Mum said, abandoning her affectionate nickname for me, "Mudbloods and Muggles are not worthy of joining us. They are lowly, disgraceful, good-for-nothing, wretched people that are unfit of knowing and learning magic."

The sharpness of her voice reached a point I had not thought possible. The ends of her sentences were quivering with anger. I leaned back, because her face had inched towards mine with each word she had spoken, leaving her passionate, angry eyes inches from my own.

Normally on occasions like this, I would back down and agree with her. Even though this was perhaps the most enraged I had ever seen her, something struck me about what she had just said as _wrong_. For the first time in my life, at the proud age of five, I argued back.

"Mum, I don't think they did anything wrong. So why shouldn't they come with us? Why shouldn't they learn too, if they're magical? Why would they be disgraceful and lowly if they're just the same as we are?"

My mother stood there, shaking with disbelief and fury, and with a swift motion, slapped me across the face, and hissed into my ear, "Sirius Black, _we_ are superior."

I sat there too stunned to cry as she stomped into the house.

_No,_ something told me, _she is wrong_.

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